


Fitzmack Tumblr Prompt Fills

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, NSFW, everything that's too short or open ended to post as an independent fic, mixed bag tbh, tumblr prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm just trying to gather all my writing into one place... bear with me during the transition! These are going to be completely out of order...</p><p>If you would like to send me a fitzmack prompt, I'm always accepting them - just shoot me an ask on <a href="http://thisiswherethefishlives.tumblr.com/">my Tumblr</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Based off the following prompt: Mack has a severed spine after he saves Fitz..._

With the coup in full swing and Jemma long ago swept off to look after Mack, there’s not much for Fitz to do aside from stare at the walls and stew in his anger. Luckily, that’s something he has a lot of practice at and he has a ton to be angry about. He’s angry at Mack for being yet another trusted person to betray the team, and he’s angry at himself because once again Fitz allowed himself to invest his heart into someone that didn’t want it… didn’t deserve it.

He wants to scream, but that would attract the attention of the agents milling around the lab, and though Fitz is angry he’s not stupid. This is the time to keep his head down, to wait for an opportunity to escape - it’s not the time to be stubborn and outwardly loyal to Coulson.

Fitz doesn’t have long to wait before Jemma comes back, sinking back onto the floor beside him. Her face is pale, and he can see her hands shaking, and it’s so unlike Jemma that Fitz wants to ask… but that would mean admitting out loud that he cares about Mack despite his betrayal. It would mean a lot of things that Fitz isn’t ready to face, so instead he stares at the wall ahead of them and doesn’t pull away when Jemma reaches out to hold his hand.

Neither of them say anything, and it’s a relief to know that despite everything that’s happened between the two of them, Jemma knows when to hold back when necessary. They stay there, in silence, until Agent Weaver approaches for an update.

“Oh, Agent Weaver, would you like me to update you in the debriefing room?” Though her voice is light, Fitz can hear the tension in Jemma’s voice and it makes him nauseous.

If Agent Weaver notices Jemma’s tone, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she shakes her head dismissively before looking down at her clipboard.

“Nonsense, we’re on a tight timeline. You can update me on Agent Mackenzie’s status here.”

With a short nod, Jemma stands up to her full height and gives Fitz’s shoulder a quick squeeze before launching into the debriefing.

“I’m afraid that the explosion severed Mack’s spine. Of course, it’s very early to tell for sure, but I would be shocked if he ever walked again.”

Jemma keeps talking, but Fitz couldn’t report back on anything she said beyond the fact that Mack may never walk again. It’s… it’s not anything that he wanted to hear. He’s bitter, and he’s angry, and he’s hurt as hell, but Fitz never wanted this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the following prompts: Pillow fights and nose kisses_

“When did you realize?”

Bobbi’s voice is a warm drawl after a night of drinks and decompressing, but even now with a warm thrum of alcohol in his veins, Mack knows better. He’s known her long enough to recognize a trap.

He’s also long since given up trying to resist her when she wants to know something.

With a non-committal shrug, Mack downs the rest of his drink before meeting her eyes from across the table. “Realize what?”

“When did you know that Fitz was  _the one_? When did you realize that you’re in love with him?”

It’s reflexive, but Mack goes to reach for his drink only to remember how very empty it is afterwards. It’s an empty glass, but it’s still a distraction - it’s something to focus on that isn’t Bobbi’s pointed look or her line of questioning. It’s a distraction as he traces his fingers over the condensation that still lingers around the glass, and every touch is like a salve to the burning that he can feel just under the surface of his skin.

He’s not embarrassed. Not really, but he’s been carrying around this love for awhile now, and Fitz was supposed to be the one to hear about it first… not Bobbi after a few rounds of drinks, not the barkeep who’s plucked the empty glass away from Mack in order to replace it with a fresh round. No, Mack’s not embarrassed, but he  _knows_  that Bobbi’s going to give him shit about it before he even starts.

It’s not her kind of love.

“I haven’t told him yet, Bobbi.” There’s a vulnerable twist to ever word that falls from his lips, and Mack can’t help but curse at himself for doing this drunk. “How am I supposed to tell you when I haven’t even told him?”

Staring down at the glass in front of him, Mack tries to explain the moment that he  _knew_ , but it’s so much more than any one single moment, and it’s so much more than could ever be expressed over drinks.

It’s stolen hours on the Playground’s roof, stars overhead and Fitz’s hand entwined with Mack’s.

It’s pillow fights on lazy mornings that devolve into the kind of kisses you feel in your toes.

It’s that very moment when they decide that they can’t be bothered to get out of bed.

It’s doing the dishes together after Wednesday night team dinners, suds up to their elbows and the oldies blasting from the radio as Skye goads the Koenigs into dancing.

It’s laughing, and laughing, and laughing some more until it feels like he can’t breathe.

It’s every single eskimo kiss, butterfly kiss, and soft moment that they’ve had combined into one.

Mack tries to sum it up… to take all of these tiny moments, to condense them into something easy to understand, but he comes up blank. Risking a glance across the table, he takes another sip from his glass before explaining the best he knows how.

“I just love him, Bobbi. Not much more to it than that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the following prompt: First big fight_

“I think we should just break up now… it will be easier for both of us if we do it now, right?”

Each word feels like a physical blow against Fitz’s heart as it falls from Mack’s mouth, and it’s such a disparate feeling from the elation that had been buzzing around the team ever since they had coaxed Jemma out from the artifact.

Six months of anxiety, of mourning, of moving on from the loss only for Skye to have cracked the code and returned Jemma to all of them. There had been champagne and cheers all around, and Fitz honestly can’t remember feeling so relieved… he had missed her deeply… hadn’t been the same without her…

Of course, the last six months had also been full of awkward dating, of stolen kisses, and rushed confessions that flitted between his mouth and Mack’s. Mack was the only thing that got Fitz through, and it didn’t take more than a few weeks for him to make the correlation, to see how this wasn’t the first time that Mack had been Fitz’s rock when no one else could reach him. Mack was everything that Fitz needed - from the long sleepless nights they spent together in the lab investigating the artifact to the way that the larger man’s body melted against Fitz’s smaller frame at night - he was everything, and not for the first time Fitz can feel his world crumbling around him.

“Wha- what? Easier? What are you doing right now?” The words fall from his mouth and it should make Fitz feel pathetic and small to hear how warped and frayed his voice sounds right now, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters right now aside from the fact that Mack wants to break up… and the fact that Mack is standing across the room just softly crying…”What are you  _doing_ , Mack?”

“I just… I know how you feel about Simmons. I know that you had a date, and… we’ve always had an expiration date… I’ve never been foolish enough to think that I could keep you. I know what this is. Always have.”

Fitz’s mouth goes so, so dry, and it’s such a contrast to the tears that are still falling down Mack’s face.

He wants to smack the damn tears straight off.

“What exactly did you think this was? Did you think that you were just some… some placeholder until Jemma came back?! What the hell, Mack? What is wrong with you?” There’s a sneer in his voice, and Fitz knows that it’s not kind. He knows that it’s not the way to keep what they have - and god does he want to keep it - but there’s all this fear and anger and hurt that’s so suddenly found its way into his heart and there’s no stopping it from lashing out.

Mack just… stares. He stares, and he cries, and Fitz just wants to ruin him. “Seriously! Are you so pathetic that you would willingly warm my bed until Jemma came back? Do you think so little of me to just- how long were you going to wait, Mack?  _Years_?! I just- I can’t even look at you right now… what the hell is wrong with you where you’re so willing to jump ship just to make room for someone else?”

Mack just stands there like a statue - a beautiful, sad, impressive statue - and he’s so calm in his sadness. He doesn’t shout back, doesn’t storm out. He just takes the abuse as if he deserves it… and that fact alone snuffs out all of Fitz’s anger. The anger is gone, and all he feels is drained and hopeless. 

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Fitz tries again.

“I thought that what we had was real, Mack. I did, and I’m sorry that you didn’t get that memo, and I’m sorry for yelling, but - today was a good day. Skye got Jemma back for us, and I missed her terribly… but I need you to know that I have always cared for you… and it took being on my own again without Jemma there to help me realize just how deep my feelings for you go. I- I  _love_ you, and I don’t want to break up, and I won’t have you feeling that you’re temporary. You’re the kind of guy that you keep forever, and- that’s it, really. I don’t want to break up.”

Mack’s face just crumples entirely, calm sadness traded in for shuddering breaths and trembling lips. He looks wrecked and lost and so, so small for such a large man. He looks like a man that needs to be held.

Carefully, Fitz moves forward, each step carefully placed so as not to spook Mack - as if he were some tiny woodland creature - and he doesn’t stop until he’s firmly in Mack’s space, pressing close enough so that he can feel Mack’s chest rise and fall with every labored breath.

They stay there for what feels like an eternity, but there’s a comfort to the contact. It’s warm, and it’s quiet, and it’s exactly what Fitz needs to anchor himself again.

“I need you, Mack. I need this, and I will do anything it takes to make you understand.”

Mack’s arms shift slightly around Fitz’s waist, and it ends up pressing them even closer together. This close, speaking at a normal volume seems like overkill, and it’s clear from the way Mack starts to whisper into Fitz’s curls that he agrees.

“I’m so sorry, Fitz… I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to hold you back, and I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I love you.”

The whispers continue, interspersed with the odd kiss pressed to Fitz’s forehead as they stay clutched together. Even as he clings closer, Fitz knows that it’s not enough to fix the lingering damage… but it’s a start.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the following prompt: Keeping the other person warm_

There’s a mumbling little rumble from under the covers, and it’s adorable. It’s actually the cutest thing ever - and Mack would know… he’s probably seen enough kittens online to last a lifetime, thank you very much Skye - point being, he knows cute when he sees it. Right now, with the blankets pulled around him like a cocoon, Fitz looks like the cutest little bundle of soft and cozy and perfect. He  _is_ perfect, but that’s another story entirely.

Said perfect, cuddly lump wriggles on the bed before Fitz’s head emerges. With his hair flying all over the place and a pink tinge to his cheeks he’s the most gorgeous thing that Mack has ever known, but he’s pouting at Mack like his life depends on it and that’s just not right.

“What’s wrong, Turbo? I couldn’t hear what you were saying through the ten layers of blankets.”

“I said that I was freezing and that you should come perform your boyfriend-duties by warming me up! Also, it’s only four blankets… do you think we could get more from Koenig? He cut me off after the last one, but it’s so cold… what if  _you_ requested more blankets? Flex your muscles a little, hmmm?”

Fitz is so wrapped up in his plotting for more blankets that he doesn’t notice Mack getting closer until he’s prying the cocoon open wide enough so he can slip in beside his love. It takes the two of them wriggling around but he manages to get settled in so that he’s curled around Fitz, who’s clinging like a limpet to Mack’s larger frame.

“Oh, you’re so warm. Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s not a serious question. Mack can hear the teasing in Fitz’s voice, and he knows that it’s just one of those things people say - it’s easy to throw around words like forever - but Mack’s hit with the desire to really do it. To just… stay with Fitz, here in the safety and the warmth and the dark, forever.

“Yeah, Turbo. That sounds good.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the following prompt: (NSFW) On the desk_

“Fffffuck, this is such a bad idea, Turbo.”

Fitz really doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, but Mack’s protests are weak at best, especially when he’s struggling to get his belt unbuckled.

“C’mon, Mack. Don’t you trust me? I want to make this so good for you.”

He can feel a shiver work its way down Mack’s back. It’s a powerful feeling, knowing that he’s the one that has Mack frantic and shivering for more. Reaching high enough to rest his hands on Mack’s shoulders, Fitz makes sure to press down, to bear down just enough so that Mack feels it – feels  _him_.

The gesture settles Mack, calms him enough so that his hands can finally undo his belt. Behind him, Fitz fights to keep his breathing regulated at the development.

The belt falls to the floor with a muffled thud and it’s so loud in the relative silence of the office. Fitz can feel it when Mack’s shoulders tense at the noise, and it’s just a moment, but this won’t work at all if Mack’s not 100% on board.

“Are you with me still, love? We can stop if you want.”

Mack’s head shakes at the question… he doesn’t seem able to vocalize his consent, but the motion’s confident enough where Fitz doesn’t feel the need to push for more. Taking Mack’s cue, Fitz drags his hands down from Mack’s shoulders to trace along the musculature of his lover’s back. He will never understand how he managed to attract someone as gorgeous as Mack – someone as good, as brilliant… as  _giving_  as Mack. He’s so good for Fitz, and there’s nothing that Fitz likes better than showing Mack just how much he means to him.

His fingers trail down further until he’s able to trace along the soft, worn hem of Mack’s jeans.

“I wanna do this, Turbo,” Mack gasps out as Fitz’s hands roam lower. “Can you just… like we talked about?”

Mack’s not begging, but Fitz finds that he’s drunk on the way Mack can’t seem to gather his wits enough to form a complete sentence.

Fitz is going to wreck him so that he can’t speak at all. It’s going to be amazing.

Hands gentle at Mack’s hips, Fitz pushes in close enough so that Mack can feel the evidence of how he’s driving Fitz wild firm against his ass.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, love. I’m going to take you apart, and then I’m going to put you back together again. It’s going to be so good, and it’s going to be just what you asked for.”

Mack’s breath hitches at the promise and Fitz just knows that this won’t be a onetime thing.

“Be a good boy and brace yourself over the desk, won’t you?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the following prompts: Grocery shopping and staring into each others eyes_

It’s easy to forget why he’s here when the guy behind the counter has eyes like  _that_  - like  _chocolate_.

That’s what they are - pools of melted chocolate - warm, sweet, and ever so dreamy. Fitz has never put much stock into ‘love at first sight’, but Mack’s eyes have had him reconsidering from the first time Jemma had sent him out to the specialty market for more prosciutto.

A quick glance around the bustling deli counter and Fitz can feel the flush rising on his cheeks because it’s  _shameful_ , but he’s just as bad as the drooling stay-at-home mothers and the smitten high schoolers that always seem to flock around when Mack’s on shift.

Really… it’s not that Fitz intended to join the adoring masses, but with eyes like that he didn’t stand a chance against Mack’s charms.

Of course, it’s those very charms that turned a one-time favor for Jemma into a bi-weekly pilgrimage to the deli counter - all for snippets of conversation and fleeting glimpses of the man on the other side.

Honestly, they don’t say much beyond the standard exchanges of pleasantries with Fitz’s order mixed in there somewhere (1lb of prosciutto and a 1/2lb of buffalo mozzarella), but the way Mack looks at him… Fitz just hopes that the attraction between them is as mutual as he sometimes thinks it is.

Sometimes, like today, Mack will throw him a wink as he hands over Fitz’s order… cheeks warm under the attention, Fitz allows his fingers to brush against Mack’s as he takes the package… it’s nice. It’s always nice with Mack, and not for the first time Fitz hopes that one day he’ll work up the courage to ask the other man out instead of just gazing at the object of his affections like a loon.

With as much dignity as he can muster, Fitz resists the urge to wink back before turning towards the checkout line in defeat. Today is clearly  _not_  his day.

He’s handing the prosciutto to the cheeky girl behind the register - seriously, who names their child Skye? - when he notices the heavy scrawl on the parchment paper. The girl, _Skye_ , huffs at him in annoyance when he pulls the package back, but he can’t help it. He’s completely taken aback by the phone number written in thick black ink.

If this is what he thinks it is…

This could be the single most important pound of prosciutto that the world has ever known.

Motioning quickly at Skye that he’ll be right back, Fitz grabs his packages before stepping off the line - hands juggling between prosciutto, mozzarella, and his phone, he plugs the numbers in quick has he can without dropping everything altogether. He doesn’t think twice before pressing the send button, instead he summons all his courage and peers back over to the deli counter.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before Mack’s smooth voice pours through the speaker.

“Hello?”

It could be that Fitz missed out on the glory of the other man’s voice when he was busy staring into Mack’s  eyes because suddenly all he can focus on is how rich Mack’s voice is with humor and warmth. The flush that had graced Fitz’s cheeks is back as an all-out fire when Mack pops out from behind the door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’, phone pressed to his ear and a smile on his face.

“Oh, um…  this is Fitz, with the prosciutto and mozzarella? Uh… this is probably too soon to call?”

It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but it’s like all sense has left Fitz’s brain because Mack’s laughing at that deeply and loud enough so that Fitz hears it in stereo as it rings out from across the room while pouring from his speakers. If Fitz had it bad before, he’s pretty sure that he’s ruined now. Mack’s laugh has ruined him for all others, and they haven’t even  _done_  anything.

“Well, Turbo, I’m pretty sure that people wait until leaving to call, but I appreciate your calling all the same.”

Mack quirks an eyebrow at him from behind the counter, and it’s enough to leave Fitz’s face burning - he just  _knows_  that he looks like an overripe tomato… but the way that Mack’s smiling at him… yeah, Fitz can’t bring himself to care that he looks like he belongs in a salad.

Smiling back, Fitz has a feeling that this is going to be the beginning of something good.

(Contrary to popular belief, the discount he gets as Mack’s boyfriend is not something Fitz had planned on - thank you very much,  _Skye_.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based off of the following prompts: Forehead touches and post no-good-very-bad-day cuddles_

Fitz can’t bear to pull the covers down from where they are tucked over his head, not even when he hears the door’s hinges creak open and closed. It’s safe under the blankets. It’s dark, and it’s warm, and he knows that it will be only a moment before Mack’s crawling under the covers to join him.

They haven’t been dating long. No more than a month or two (it’s been approximately one month, two weeks, five days, and eight hours since they got together - give or take a half hour or so - not that Fitz has been keeping track or anything), but it feels like longer.

Mack slides under the covers, and that alone has Fitz’s nerves settling.

It feels like they have been together for ages, just in the way that they come together. There’s a level of communication that’s different from anything Fitz has ever known - it’s not the intellectual connection that he has with Jemma, and it’s not the banter that he’s developed with Skye.

It’s more instinctual than anything else in the way that Mack knows what Fitz needs after a hard day, and how he’ll span large hands over Fitz’s back, rubbing small, slow circles into his skin… it’s how he curls up along Fitz’s back under the safety of the covers…

Mostly, it’s the way that Mack is patient without being told to be, how he’ll stay wrapped around Fitz, warm and solid and real, waiting for Fitz to turn around.

It’s intuitive, this thing that they have, and it’s the greatest comfort Fitz has ever known.

Without saying a word, Fitz turns over so that he’s facing his lover, pushes closer until he can gently press their foreheads together.

Mack sighs at the gesture, arms pulling them closer together until there’s nothing left to separate them, and it’s that single exhalation of breath that has Fitz pressing a smile to Mack’s mouth.

Even after a horrible day, it’s moments like this that keep Fitz going because even though they haven’t been dating long (approximately one month, two weeks, five days, and nine hours since they got together - give or take a half hour or so) there’s this innate understanding between them.

It’s obvious in the way that Mack knows how to comfort Fitz after a difficult day and how Fitz knows to comfort him in return.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the prompt: can you write something where fitz wants to tell mack he loves him but he can never get it out because of the whole brain trauma thing and mack thinks he knows what hes trying to say but he doesnt want to assume because he could just be projecting his own feelings_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this prompt, but I'll be the first to admit that the drabble that came of it is more inspired by the prompt than anything else. While it's not a literal translation of the request, I hope that it captures the spirit of the prompt. <3

They're barreling down the interstate, probably going forty over the speed limit, but Fitz can't focus on the speed when there's wind whipping through the open windows. It howls past his ears, threads through his curls, and licks into his ears so loudly that he may be deaf by the end of their joyride.

He wouldn't mind though, would risk a thousand car rides like this to have Mack at his side. It's the best kind of escape - temporary, dangerous... it's the kind of ride that makes you forget your problems.

Sitting in Mack's convertible, it's the most alive that Fitz has felt in months. It makes him want to scream, but the last vestiges of his logical mind remind him that his screams would be carried away before anyone would hear them. There's a safety in that, but this ride isn't about safety or playing it safe. It's about rolling down the windows and feeling something. It's about screaming from the top of your lungs, sharing your deepest secrets, and not fearing the outcome.

Fitz just wants to get it out, wants to yell from the top of his lungs that he's alive and that he's in love.

Instead, he sticks his arm out the passenger side window to better feel the wind race over his skin. It makes him feel clean and new.

He's alive.

He's in love.

He's clean and he's new.

Mack's hand comes to rest high on his thigh, and it makes Fitz shiver to feel the warmth of Mack's presence spill through his jeans. The other hand is steady on the wheel, casual, as if he weren't blatantly ignoring the speed limit. Mack guides the car along the deserted stretch of road as if he's done it a thousand times. He's the most confident driver that Fitz has ever seen - relaxed and in control, even as the signs whip past with their unheeded urging to keep at 65mph.

There's a smile on Mack's face, and it feels like a secret. It feels like a secret, and Fitz has never been more in love. The words fall out, but it's a mere whisper against the roar of the engine and the din of the wind rushing in through the windows. It's just a whisper, but Mack squeezes his thigh with that damned smile on his face.

Settling deeper into the leather upholstery, Fitz resigns himself to watching the scenery race past. It's not the right time for loud confessions - it's much too loud as it is.

* * *

The first time that they kiss, it's rushed. It's not planned, and it's awkward, and it probably should feel wrong. It should feel wrong because they're caught up yet again in the same old argument, bruising each other with words that don't begin to cover what's really at stake.

Accusations flying, Fitz doesn't expect the kiss, certainly doesn't anticipate being the one to initiate it, but there he is pulling Mack down by the front of his shirt. Before he can think twice he's pressing up, crashing their lips together to better down out Mack's words.

It's hard and off-kilter, but then Mack's hands are circling around his waist and the kiss gentles into something tender.

Fitz could explore the territory of Mack's mouth for days - weeks if allowed - but he only has a few moments to appreciate the newness of it all before Mack's pulling back. There's a kiss brushed to Fitz's forehead, but it's not nearly enough to hold onto as Mack lets go and turns away with one last promise.

It's the same argument that they've been having for months now, but without Mack in the room, the fight just melts from his bones. It’s not that Fitz wouldn’t do anything to get Jemma back… he would give almost anything to have his best friend by his side.

The problem is that it never occurred to Fitz that the team would risk Mack to do it.

Alone in the quiet of the room, he resists the urge to run after Mack, swallows down the words that have been clawing their way from his heart. With that Mack's about to do... it wouldn't help.

It doesn't help anything that Fitz is in love with Mack, wouldn't keep him any safer if he were to know.

The room is much too quiet.

* * *

Jemma tumbles from the artifact looking no worse for wear than she had been six months ago when Fitz had finally gotten the nerve to ask her out. She looks perfectly fine, if not for the haunted look in her eyes, but Fitz can only spare her a moment's glance before dragging his gaze back to the artifact.

It's seizing violently between shapes, vibrating with what looks like rage as it goes from solid to liquid, jagged edges smoothing into a perfect cube before twitching into something else. It's almost too quick to keep track, but Fitz tries to keep up despite it.

Throat dry, he tries to swallow, but his tongue is too heavy. It sticks to the roof of his mouth as he forces his throat to relax enough to go through the motions. His throat feels like it's been sanded down to the nerve, but it's grounding in a way that pinching himself isn't anymore. He swallows again, works through the pain, keeps his eyes steady.

Somewhere across the room Skye is tearfully welcoming Jemma back to the team. He can hear the relieved laughter, knows the collective relief that must be settling over the rest of the team, but it's not over. He'll join in the happy reunions when everyone is back.

The team is so caught up in Jemma that Fitz is the only one still watching when Mack is thrown from the artifact. He's the first one at Mack's side, hands shaking as he checks for a pulse. It's there - racing under his fingers - and that fact alone has Fitz thanking ever god he's ever heard of. The thanks fall from his lips like water from a fountain, but they aren't the words that he really wants to be saying now.

There's no time for those words though as Mack pulls him down into a messy kiss. It's only their second, but it feels natural to melt into the urgent press of Mack's lips, to run his tongue against Mack's in invitation. It feels so good, but then Mack's pushing Fitz back by the shoulders, and Fitz can't help but think that this won't work out if Mack's always disengaging before they get anywhere good.

Fitz has needs, damnit.

Mack's full on smirking at this point, but then he's pushing Fitz towards Jemma, telling him to take care of his girl, and there's no way that Fitz can say no to that. Not after six months of searching for answers... half a year gone by without his best friend so soon after he got her back...

She's waiting for him on the other side of the room, still looking as put together and beautiful as she did the last time Fitz had seen her. It's just a blink of an eye before she's barreling into his arms, sobs tearing through her tiny frame as Fitz holds her tight.

There's so much that he wants to say - so much that he needs to catch Jemma up on, but it gets stuck in his throat along with everything else that he's been meaning to say.

Pulling her closer, Fitz doesn't bother trying to keep his gaze from falling back onto Mack. He looks exhausted, but he's alive. He's the most beautiful man that Fitz has ever seen, and Fitz loves him more than words will ever express.

Mack is perfect. He's alive, and he came back, and he brought Jemma with him just like he had promised.

Mack kept his promise.

It's that realization that has all the stress and anxiety falling from Fitz's shoulders.

Mack kept his promise and everything is fine.

Fitz is in love. Everything is fine, Fitz is in love, and he's going to tell Mack. He's going to tell everyone... just... not yet.

Turning into Jemma's shoulder, Fitz takes a moment to breathe her in. She's lavender shampoo and fabric softener, and it's like a punch to the gut to realize that she could have been lost forever. He almost lost her, but she's here now.

They are going to be fine.

* * *

He was going to be the one to say it first.

He was. Really.

Fitz had been waiting for the perfect moment, was in the process of planning it out perfectly, but then Mack comes out of nowhere with his bullshit confession like Fitz is supposed to be happy about it.

It's just... it's ridiculous!

_Fitz_ was going to be the one to share his feelings first. He was going to make it classy. He was going to _cook Mack dinner_ for Christ's sake, but no...

No!

Mack decided that it was all well and good to pull back from yet another awkward/perfect kiss (their third, thank you very much) so that he could drop the bomb that _he_ loves _Fitz_.

There's a look of shock on Mack's face as Fitz pummels his chest with clenched fists, but it quickly slides into a smirk as he realizes what's going on. The bastard has the nerve to smirk all through Fitz's loud and angry love confession, dares to push closer to Fitz until they're pressed against the nearest wall, is cheeky enough to wrap his ridiculously long fingers around Fitz's wrists before pinning them above his head.

Fitz is still yelling his loves to the rafters when Mack initiates their fourth kiss, doesn't stop until Mack's peppered his entire face with loud and slightly wet kisses (five through sixteen don't count if they aren't on the lips). It's enough to have Fitz seeing red, but then Mack dares to quote Star Wars at him. That kind of sass means war.

It also means that they skip dinner and head straight to dessert...

but that's a different story entirely.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the following prompt: 16 (in a public place), 25 (with toys) or 28 (role play!) For the nsfw meme. ♡_

The bell on the door chimes bright and loud, and yeah, that’s all the incentive he needs to move out from behind the counter. It’s not that he’s the most _dedicated_ of employees, he’s just bored. Shockingly enough, manning the helm of a sex shop isn’t the wild ride he had always thought it would be. Nah, it’s boring. It’s so damn boring, but sometimes it’s not so bad. Times like now, for instance - Al can’t complain too badly when he sees who walked in - perfect lips, curly hair he would die to sink his fingers into, and doe eyes that would give Bambi a run for his money… he’s the perfect kind of distraction.

Stepping closer, it’s pretty obvious that the guy’s in over his head - he’s glancing around like the room’s filled with poisonous snakes and deadly traps, and it’s kind of cute. Al could think of a worse way to spend his shift than making his customer a little more… _comfortable_ …

“Hey, man. D'you have your ID? Can’t let you any further without it.”

It looks like the guy nearly jumps out of his skin at the request, and yeah, he’s totally nervous. Probably a first-timer. A sex shop virgin. Al doesn’t manage to follow that train of thought as far as he would like before the guy’s shoving his entire wallet at him. It’s real cute.

Flipping the wallet open slowly, Al takes his time going through it before finally pulling out the driver’s license. Leisurely he reads over the information, filing it away for another time, before sliding it back in and handing the wallet back with a wink.

“Here ya go, Leo. Now that that’s outta the way, is there anything in particular that I can help you with?”

If Leo looked nervous before, he’s visibly sunk to new depths of mortification now - face flushed and lips pursed as if he’d been sucking lemons, he’s a mess, but it just makes Al want him even more. Everything about him is awkward and new, and Al just wants to ruin that, wants to muss his curls and toss out that nervous tension until all that’s left is Leo spread out and begging for more. Fuck, the things he would do to him are just- 

“Please don’t call me Leo… my _mum_ is the only one that calls me that, and… well, I’m really not here to be thinking about my mum.”

He gestures haltingly around the shop - from the dildos lining the walls to the edible undies piled on the clearance table. 

“Yeah, fair enough. If it makes you feel any better, my mom takes advantage of my employee discount on the regular.”

The quip seems to break the ice between them, because suddenly Leo’s laughing with his head thrown back all free and gorgeous. It’s like flipping a switch, what with how his body language morphs into something more relaxed and easy.

“Oh, god, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

Leo’s voice is wrecked with laughter, his entire body shaking with the giggles, and Al lets himself admire just how good Leo looks when he’s having a good time. Head thrown back, laughing with abandon, the position shows off his slender, pale neck and his surprisingly broad shoulders. He’s fucking gorgeous, and Al just wants to wreck him - wants to bite at that pale neck until it’s marked up and pretty. Leo was tempting before when he was stiff and nervous… but now he’s temptation incarnate. He’s delectable, and Al wants to take a big bite, wants to lick every inch of skin he’s afforded. He _wants_.

The laughter dies down slowly as Al unapologetically undresses him with his eyes. There’s no one else in the room - the store’s a ghost town in the mornings and Bobbi’s shift doesn’t start for another two hours. Without Leo’s laughter filling the space it’s evident just how quiet it is. It’s obvious that they’re alone. 

With an awkward little cough that shouldn’t be as charming as it is, Leo extends his hand to Al. It trembles for a moment as it hovers between them, but it’s warm and soft in Al’s hand when he takes the hand in his.

“I’d like it if you’d call me Leopold.”

Despite the way his hand had trembled, Leo - ugh, no - _Leopold’s_ voice is sure and steady. Carefully, slowly, Al edges closer without breaking the contact that shaking hands allows.

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Pointing at his nametag with his free hand, Al affords himself a laugh before crowding closer than before. “I’d introduce myself, but corporate culture did it for me already. Seriously, though. What are you in the market for today, Leopold?”

With only a foot between them, Al can see the way Leopold’s throat bobs as he swallows. He can hear how Leopold’s breath hitches as they continue to shake hands loosely. It’s a blatant excuse for contact, but if Leopold isn’t going to pull away neither is Al.

“I… umm, I don’t know really. I just wanted something, uh… discreet? Maybe something quiet?”

“Okay, I can work with that. Come with me.”

Al doesn’t lead the way so much as herd Leopold toward the vibrator section. He can’t see the other man’s face, but he can see how nicely the blush the other man’s been sporting has spread to his neck. 

Pressing close behind, closer than anything remotely professional, Al allows his breath to fan out against the shell of Leopold’s ear as he reaches up over his shoulder to grab one of the smaller, quieter models off the wall. Leopold turns to face him, and they are so close, just enough space for the vibrator to fit between them, and Al would be lying if he said that fact alone didn’t give him any ideas.

“This is probably one of my favorite toys to play with in my personal collection. It’s waterproof, super quiet, and the safety loop at the end makes sure you avoid any unforeseen trips to the emergency room.”

Leopold laughs at that, a hard bark that’s so different from his earlier giggling. It’s a completely different thing, but it’s no less attractive on him.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want _that_!” There’s a cheeky smile on his face as he leans slightly closer, and Al feels something molten and urgent grow down low in his stomach when he realizes that this may lead to more than just a one-sided flirtation.

“Yeah, well. We’ve got other ones that you might want to look at, but this one-” Al says, with an authoritative tap to the lurid purple vibrator in his hand, “ _this_ is the only one I can personally recommend to you based off what you’re looking for. It’s a little pricey… but if you’re interested, I could let you use my employee discount.”

“Oh,” Leopold breathes out, close enough where Al can smell the mints on his breath, “are you allowed to do that? You don’t even know me… what would your mother say?”

His pupils are blown, but even more distracting is the way Leopold’s tongue darts out to swipe along his lips. Everything about this man is a temptation. _Everything_.

There’s barely any room between them now as Al pushes the vibrator into the other man’s hands. His fingers brush against the soft, delicate skin of Leopold’s wrists, and he really doesn’t think he’s imagining it when the other man lets loose a breathless whimper.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

At that, Leopold’s perfect lips - still shiny from where he had licked over them before - twitch up into a gentle smile that has Al licking his own lips in response. He wants to kiss that smile straight off, wants to lick between those lips until he knows exactly what Leopold tastes like. He wants to own this man, wants to be owned in return.

There’s a heated moment where neither of them says a thing, where they just _look_ at each other. It’s one of the most erotic moments that Al can remember, but none of it compares to what it feels like when Leopold reaches out to rest his palm over Al’s heart. He can feel the warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt, wants to feel that hand _everywhere_.

“I’m definitely interested… but I think I’d need some help with this… I’ve never used a-a… um… a vibrator before.”

The stutter shouldn’t be hot, but suddenly Al’s got a situation going on in his pants that would get him fired if anyone else was around. It’s probably the hottest thing that’s ever been said to Al in his adult life, because beneath the stuttering and awkwardness is intent hot enough to leave him aching and leaking into his pants.

Leopold’s hand twitches slightly when Al folds his own hand over it, but he quickly relaxes under the weight. Even though he didn’t ask a question, it feels like maybe Leopold’s asking for something here - if he’s asking what Al _thinks_ he’s asking, he’ll be damned if he scares the guy off by moving in the way he wants to. He wants to claim Leopold, wants to pull him in and hold him close until they both get what they’re looking for. He wants to see what Leopold looks like when he comes apart, wants to taste it… what he does instead is keep his touches feather light and gentle, does his best to appear as innocent as possible despite his intentions as he leans in even closer.

“Can’t say that there’s anything wrong with wanting to try new things. I could give you some pointers, if you want… tell you what’s always worked for me… tell you what feels good.”

Faster than Al was expecting, Leopold pushes close enough so that their chests are pressed together, close enough to allow him to whisper into Al’s ear.

“Perhaps you could show me what feels good? I’ve always been a tactile learner.”

Yeah, if Al was hard before he could probably cut glass at this point. He didn’t expect this when he rolled out of bed this morning, but now that he’s got Leopold in his clutches he’s not about to waste the opportunity. Eyes locked with Leopold’s, Al wraps his fingers around the other man’s wrist, uses his grip to pull his hand up high enough to nibble and lick at his finger tips. Leopold’s breath hitches at the action, and it’s all the permission Al needs to suck those fingers into his mouth. It’s so fucking hot, swirling his tongue around the long, calloused fingers while he watches Leopold pant over the stimulation. 

Leopold’s fingers feel so good pressed against Al’s tongue, and Al just wants to eat him all up, wants to see what else he can take into his mouth. God, he wants to see what Leopold can do with his fingers, wants to-“

“Guys, c'mon. The target’s  a block away and I need you in position now.” May’s voice filters through Mack’s comm and he can tell from the way that all the blood has visibly drained from Fitz’s face that she’s in his ear as well. “Believe me, I would much rather see where your little scene leads, but Coulson will have all our heads if we botch another mission because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. If you manage to _not_ screw this up, I won’t tell Coulson you were role-playing during a mission again.”

With a crackle, May’s voice cuts off before Mack can say anything in their defense, but it’s probably for the best. His pants are tented something fierce, and he was probably three minutes away from dropping to his knees to blow Fitz where they stood. 

It’s not the first time that they’ve been caught, but it’s no less mortifying to remember just how many people they were essentially putting on a show for. Lord only knows what he’ll have to bribe Skye with this time to make sure the footage isn’t put on YouTube again…

“Oh, god. We did it again.”

Glancing up at his boyfriend, Mack can’t keep the fond smile from his face. Fitz is just… he’s _Fitz_ , and as much as Mack would swear that he has an exhibitionist streak a mile long (considering how insistent he is that they play in the field), he’s blushing from the roots of his hair to his shirt collar, mouth opening and closing like a mortified goldfish.

“C'mon, baby. Let’s just get through this mission, then we can get back to base and finish what we started, okay?”

Fitz just nods, but there’s a noticeable change to his posture as he gets into his ‘secret agent headspace’. With a final, pointed look at the vibrator that’s still clutched to Fitz’s chest, Mack swaggers around to his spot behind the counter. If he swings his hips with a little extra wiggle, that’s between him, Fitz, and Skye’s surveillance cameras.

Now, the way that Fitz is eying him from across the room?

Yeah, that’s a promise, and it’s just between the two of them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the prompt: Can you write one where basically Mack fucks fitz while standing and he even walks around while fitz is sitting on his dick because its hot how easy it is._

“I- I didn’t mean _now_ , Mack.”

There’s an audible whine to Fitz’s voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. Honestly, considering the circumstances, a bit of whining is the least of his issues.

“Nah, Turbo. If my man’s thirsty, I’m gonna take care of him. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t tend to your needs?”

Smug. Mack is a _smug_ bastard, and it’s enough to have Fitz spitting mad.

“You’d be the kind of boyfriend that _fucks_ me!”

From where he’s pressed to Mack, Fitz can feel him laugh - it’s silent, but he can still feel every vibration, and it’s maddening. It’s horrible, because Fitz just can’t stay focused on _why_ he’s annoyed when Mack’s lifting him up and maneuvering them towards the small kitchenette as if Fitz weighed nothing… as if Fitz wasn’t impaled on his cock.

Oh. Yes. _That’s_ why he’s annoyed.

“You can’t just stop in the middle! I have needs, Mack, and if you were really concerned about being a good boyfriend, you would finish what you started!”

There may be a petulant fist pounded against Mack’s chest for emphasis, but it does nothing to actually turn Mack back around towards their bed.

“C’mon, baby. I’m gonna get you some water, stretch my legs a little, and then we can get back to business.”

Fitz can almost physically feel the way Mack’s eyes scan over his face, knows that his pout is here to stay when Mack just rolls his eyes before hoisting Fitz closer. Strong hands hold him from under his thighs, pressing Fitz tight against Mack’s chest, changing the angle slightly. The new position sparks against Fitz’s nerves, lighting a fire that flashes up his spine without warning. It’s good, really good, but it’s not enough.

“I need more, Mack. Please.”

Strong hands pull him even closer until they’re pressed flush against each other, and it’s overwhelming how warm and firm and safe it feels to be pressed against all of that skin. Mack’s fingers trail up and down along Fitz’s back, leaving his skin tingling in their wake.

“You gotta take what you want, Turbo. I already told you what I’m gonna do, and I’m gonna stick to the plan… but if you need more, you can take it.”

Eyelids heavy with want, it takes a moment for Fitz to blink his eyes open and another moment for Mack’s words to actually sink in. It feels like he’s under water - he’s weightless as his arms struggle to reach up, hands clasping behind Mack’s neck for better leverage.

From that moment, it all gets a little foggy. In the back of his mind, Fitz registers when Mack walks them to the kitchen, takes his time pouring them each a tall glass of water. Fitz knows that it’s happening, but it’s like his brain’s gone off line. All that matters - all that he can really focus on - is the burn in his arms and the coiled tension low in his spine that tightens each time he bears down on Mack’s cock.

It should be illegal how good it feels for Fitz to take what he needs like this. It feels _so_ good to writhe on Mack’s cock, arms wrapped around Mack’s neck, flexing and struggling to set a steady rhythm that alternates between grinding closer and bouncing greedily from where they’re connected.

Every step that Mack takes jostles Fitz out of the steady rhythm, but it feels too good to complain.

It’s frantic and leisurely at the same time, shivers working across Fitz’s skin even as he’s burning up from the inside out. It’s too much and not enough between the tension and the friction and the fullness.

“Shhh, Turbo, you’re doing so well, baby, but I need you to stop for a second. Just a second.”

There’s a thin, warbling whine that’s been running in the back of Fitz’s head, but it’s only with Mack shushing him that Fitz realizes that he’s been making the noise the entire time. If he was less keyed up, he’d probably be mortified, but for now all he wants to do is keep going.

“C’mon, baby… I just want you to take a sip and then we can keep going, alright?”

It’s less a question than it is a demand, and Fitz knows that Mack threw the question mark in there as a courtesy. Usually, that kind of subtle manipulation would drive him up a wall, but right now? Right now Fitz can’t get the friction he needs with Mack literally holding him to a full stop - one large hand pressed to the small of his back, firm and unyielding as Fitz tries to move the way he wants to.

Rather than struggle any further, he settles for focusing on the straw that Mack has pointed towards him, lips and tongue working to get it into his mouth. It feels like a victory when he’s finally able to take a sip, cool water working down his throat like a blessing. It settles his mind, settles the fire that’s been raging beneath his skin since Mack first stood up. He sips until there’s nothing left in the glass, reveling in the oasis that the chilled water provided, eyes closed against the pleasure of it all. Gently, he lets his lips fall open so that the straw can be pulled away, leaning forward to rest his cheek against Mack’s shoulder as the other man sets their glasses down on the counter.

They stay there, still connected in the most intimate way that Fitz knows how, just long enough for the heat to wash back over every inch of Fitz’s body. The water only managed to cool him off temporarily and now that the effect has faded, he _wants_. Wriggling his hips impatiently, Fitz  turns his face into Mack’s neck, biting down when the other man laughs at his impatience.

“Come _on_ , Mack. You promised. You promised that you’d give me what I needed after the water, and I need more.”

Mack doesn’t bother responding before he’s moving again, every step bouncing Fitz slightly, jostling him into a wrecked, panting mess. It’s only after they’ve settled that it occurs to Fitz that they aren’t heading towards the bed at all. No, instead Mack’s balanced himself on one of their dining stools, hands braced on each of Fitz’s thighs to hold him steady.

Fitz doesn’t get a chance to complain about the detour though, barely gets a moment to catch his breath as Mack uses his hands - strong, hot, gorgeous hands - to start working Fitz up and down on his cock with urgency. It’s beyond good, beyond anything that they’ve done before, and Fitz feels raw with pleasure. He knows that he won’t last long, not with Mack finally giving in, taking what he needs from Fitz.

Reaching down, Fitz takes his own cock in hand, working it furiously in counter rhythm to Mack’s steady pace. It’s a dry grip, but it counters the pleasure that’s been rushing over him in waves. It feels _right_ , and it keeps him grounded. Body bouncing along to Mack’s pace, Fitz allows himself to go along for the ride.

At the end of the day, Mack can work his body however he needs. Right now, though? Fitz is going to take what he wants.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the prompt: NSFW #3 - First time_

To say that it’s their first time… it feels wrong, really. It’s hardly the first time that Fitz has been with a man, and he knows enough about Mack’s past to have realized a long time ago he wouldn’t be Mack’s first anything. So, no... It’s definitely not their first time when Mack’s shaking hands reach out to unbutton Fitz’s cardigan. It’s hardly a novel experience when Fitz allows his own hands to tangle in the front of Mack’s henley, pulling him low enough to kiss.

The moment itself is an amalgam. It’s the result of countless experiences, countless lovers, all faceless and burnt from Fitz’s mind at the lusty first swipe of Mack’s tongue across his own. It’s only _now_ that Fitz knows just what his fingers can do, how they can bring grown men to tears with pleasure, how they can hurt as well as heal. He releases his grip on Mack’s shirt, letting go only to grab the bottom hem, pushing it up high enough to make his point understood. He wants the shirt off, wants to see Mack bared and vulnerable, open and trusting. Fitz wants to see Mack all over, wants to understand his body in ways Mack’s past lovers never dared to. He wants to own him. Wants to be owned in return.

Mack’s arms go up and his shirt goes with them, tossed up and off like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It could be. Mouth watering, Fitz allows himself a moment to just appreciate the man in front of him. Chest heaving, soft-looking skin stretched upon muscle, Mack looks like a god - like the embodiment of attraction and manliness and everything that Fitz has ever wanted before and will ever want again.

“You gonna look at me all night, Turbo, or are you gonna take off your clothes?”

Mack’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s a tension that sparks underneath his words that speaks volumes. It tells Fitz that Mack wants him as well. Tells Fitz that he can have this, can lose himself in this moment. He’s safe here.

Fitz doesn’t snark back, doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t say anything as he finishes the job that Mack started. His fingers, steadier now than they’ve been in over a year, pluck the buttons of his cardigan through their holes. His hands, strong and capable thanks to months of rehab, pull at the sweater until it’s in a ball on the floor. His body… well, it’s thrumming with energy and desire, fueled by the way Mack is devouring with his eyes, baited by the way Mack’s clothing is being stripped off as well, one piece at a time.

Naked, Mack is more powerful, more himself than Fitz has ever seen him. He’s gorgeous. He’s confident, and he’s sex incarnate, and as he steps closer it’s clear that he belongs to Fitz as much as Fitz belongs to him.

Strong arms pull Fitz close once the last of their clothing has been stripped off, and it’s all hot, smooth skin that slides against Fitz like silk over steel. If he trusted Mack less, was less in love, Fitz might be intimidated by Mack’s size… but instead it makes him feel tall to be held in such high regard by the amazing man in front of him. In Mack’s arms he doesn’t feel dwarfed by the other man’s muscles or height or beauty. No, Fitz feels like a man. He feels invincible as Mack’s lips claim his own in a slow kiss that stays light and tender even as their hands start to wander.

“I love you,” Fitz breathes into Mack’s mouth, words muffled and warm and almost lost to their passion. It’s said on an exhale without expectation, without a need for Mack to reciprocate, but then he _does_.

“Love you too, Turbo. Damn near loved you forever.”

The words sink into Fitz’s skin, bury deep until they’ve reached his heart. They leave him breathless, even though he had known. God, he’d known since the wall blew in under Gonzalez’s orders… since Mack had pressed him down to take the brunt of the explosion, but it’s one thing to _know_ a thing… it’s entirely different to hear it.

His heart aches from hearing it, feels ten sizes too large, and he needs a moment. Gently, Fitz pulls himself out of Mack’s arms, takes a step and breathes. Mack loves him. This is real.

It’s hardly the first time that Fitz has been loved, definitely not the first time that he’s heard the sentiment directed towards him, but this feels momentous. From Mack’s lips, it’s perfect.

Risking a glance, Fitz can see Mack’s concern written all over him - mouth tensed and small, gaze unwavering even as his hands come forward to cover his nakedness as if he needs to hide. It’s not what Mack’s hands should be used for, not even close, and Fitz just knows that he needs to act before there’s anything to fix.

“I’m glad… that you love me. I’ve known for awhile, but I didn’t expect-”

He can’t finish the sentence, not when Mack’s kissing him with what feels like every fiber of his being, fingers twining and tugging through his curls like Mack’s afraid he’ll disappear if he doesn’t grab hold.

The time for words is gone, but Fitz can feel the words spelled out across his skin with every touch and kiss and lick and bite between them.

_I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you_

It doesn’t stop, and Fitz can feel himself burning from the inside out, love and lust and respect and devotion radiating from his heart with such force that he feels light headed and drunk with it. There are no doubts as he pushes Mack down onto the bed, no second thoughts as he slicks his fingers before turning his attention towards his lover. He works Mack open like he was made for this, and the romantic in him thinks that it’s possible. One finger becomes two, which then becomes three, and Mack is _perfect_. He opens to Fitz like it’s all that he’s ever wanted, and perhaps that’s true, but Fitz is too involved in the slick, tight heat of Mack to give it too much thought.

He pushes into Mack and he _knows_. This is exactly where he’s supposed to be. All of his past experiences - successes and wounds alike - have brought him here. His past lovers prepared him for the mechanics of this, the reality and physicality of the act, and he’s never been more thankful to them than he is now. They have made him _more_. They have made him into the man that he is today, the man that Mack has given his heart - given his _body_ to. Pressed deep into Mack, as closely connected as two people can possibly be, Fitz gives himself over to the love and desire and need that he’s been holding onto for so long.

It’s slow. It’s fast. It will be over far too soon. They can have this _forever_.

He’s lost in the magnitude of his feelings, lost to the world aside from Mack - in Mack he’s found. It’s the tight clutch of Mack’s body and the soft give of his lips… his love. Together they ride the ride the swells and crests of their coupling, allowing their bodies to share and express and revel in ways their words will never be able to until they’re coming into each other and onto each other like so many waves crashing and breaking apart before they can come back together.

Spent, bone-tired, ruined for all others, Fitz pulls out gently - _slowly_ before grabbing his shirt from the floor. It only takes a moment to wipe them down, but his limbs feel like jelly and he wears his exhaustion like a blanket too heavy to shrug off. Mack pulls him back down to the mattress, careful to avoid the wetness of the messed sheets beneath them, and it’s perfect. Fitz allows him to drift off to sleep, held close in Mack’s arms, breathing in and out with the measured cadence of Mack’s heart.

It’s hardly the first time that Fitz has taken a lover, but he knows - even as sleep claims him - he _knows_ that he wants Mack to be his last.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the prompt: “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”_

They weren’t supposed to move this fast, but every fumbling brush of their lips has Mack’s game plan pushed further and further away. Sure, it’s only their first date, and sure they should have stopped to talk about boundaries and intent awhile back, but in Mack’s defense it’s incredibly difficult to think when Fitz’s fingers are so diligently working at his fly.

With Herculean effort, Mack pulls back from the warmth of Fitz’s mouth, hands wrapped carefully around Fitz’s wrists to keep the wily Scot from surging after him.

“C’mon, Turbo. We gotta slow down.”

Mack can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at the cute little pout that’s taken over Fitz’s face. After everything that they’ve been through, it’s reassuring that Fitz wants this just as much as Mack does. It feels amazing to finally be on the same page. Of course, from the whine that Fitz is letting out, all plaintive and needy, it’s pretty clear that Fitz isn’t necessarily on the same page when it comes to waiting. 

“I don’t want to wait, Mack. All we’ve done is wait, a-and… I just want to be with you. All of you. _Now_.”

The words are so sweet, and the look in Fitz’s eyes speaks to a sincerity that strengthens Mack’s desire tenfold. Gently, he drags his left hand up from Fitz’s wrist, smoothing over the softness of his cardigan and the lithe strength of the muscles hiding underneath. It’s a subtle strength, not necessarily obvious to the naked eye, but Mack’s known it was there from the beginning and he can feel it now as he reaches further up to cup Fitz’s cheek.

“Yeah, I want to be with you too, and you wanting this now?” It would be funny, the way that Fitz is nodding in agreement, if it weren’t for the heated look that’s sparked in his eyes. “I’m with you all the way… but we’re not doing this in the common room. That’s my only condition.”

The smirk on Fitz’s face would be significantly less disconcerting if he wasn’t dangling Mack’s keycard from his fingers, lanyard and all.

“Does your room work?”

Without pausing long enough to consider just how Fitz managed to palm his things without having noticed, Mack spins on his heel and books it to his room, the slap of Fitz’s oxfords hot on his heels. It’s a quick jog to his quarters, and it flies even faster with their laughter tumbling together - feeling lighter than he has in years, Mack skids to a stop in front of his room and waits.

It’s unlike any waiting that Mack’s done in his life - it’s not tense or awkward, uncomfortable or binding - it feels freeing and beautiful, because for once in his life he knows that the thing he’s waiting for - the person he’s waiting for - is worth it.

Finally caught up, Fitz slides the keycard through the scanner before turning back to pull Mack into a kiss. It’s unlike any other first date kiss that Mack’s ever had, but it feels exhilarating and comfortable all at the same time. It’s everything, and as Mack slowly crowds Fitz through the door, he can’t help but think that this is just the beginning of so much more.

It’s only the undignified squawk from behind Mack’s bed that stops him from undressing Fitz on the spot. Instead, he focuses his energy on pushing Fitz behind him and finds himself wishing for the shotgun-axe that Fitz has been developing down in the labs.

“Alright, I’m only going to ask this one damn time. Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?”

There’s some shuffling and an awkward groan before two bedraggled silhouettes wrapped in his duvet pop up from behind the mattress.

“Of all the damn days,” Mack can’t keep the growl from his voice as he stares down the guilty faces of his two best friends. “Is there a reason why you two were naked in my bed?”

He can feel Fitz moving around behind him, no doubt peeking at their very naked and barely covered friends, but for the first time that night Mack can’t bring himself to look at his date. Bobbi has the good grace to look sheepish, but it’s the nonchalant grin on Hunter’s face that really steals the show.

“Well, y’see mate. It’s a long story.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Based off the prompt: The paint’s supposed to go where?_

If he had to sum it up in one word, Mack’s first reaction to the situation would probably have been best defined as confusion (and no, he didn’t whimper in fear, no matter what Coulson and Fitz claim to have heard), but he’s never been one to shy away from a challenge.

At least, he didn’t shy away before this specific assignment.

It’s not that he’s  _scared_ , it’s just… it was confusing. Even now, sitting under the bright halogen lighting of the garage hours later, he still finds himself needing to confirm the situation.

“This isn’t a joke, right? I’m not gonna get fired over this…  _right_?”

Fitz snorts like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day, but Mack’s been sweating bullets for hours now, and if he’s going to meet his deadline he needs confirmation. Once he has that… well, then he can officially start ruining his career.

“Mack, it’s not exactly rocket science. My cousin has completed paint-by-number kits more difficult than this, and she’s six.”

“Yeah, yeah. Rub it in, Turbo. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind a paint-by-number guideline at this point. I mean, I’ve been staring at this for hours, and it’s not sinking in. I keep looking at it and thinking, ‘the paint’s supposed to go _where_?’” Fitz snorts again, and it’s all Mack can do not to snap at his boyfriend. “C’mon, I don’t need you laughing at me right now. My  _job_  is on the line, and it’s all because I cut off the director’s hand. People don’t come back from that kind of on-the-job initiative.”

He can feel the tension that’s been building in his spine start to rise, and it’s only the feeling of Fitz coming up to wrap his arms around Mack’s waist that keeps the panic at bay.

“Oh, shush. For one thing, your job isn’t on the line over this… and for  _another_ , it wasn’t the axe work that got you into your mess. Apparently your resume flaunts years of auto body painting experience?”

“Well.  _Yes_. But this is completely different.”

Sighing, no doubt over the petulance that’s worked its way into Mack’s tone, Fitz unwraps his arms long enough to circle in front of Mack, effectively blocking his view of the offending project.

“If you think about it, Mack, there really isn’t a huge difference between painting classic cars and painting a robotic hand, right?! And who else on base is going to know exactly the shade of red to match Lola?”

Running it over in his head, Mack can admit that Fitz’s argument makes sense, but he can’t help but feel that he’s been lead into a trap. Call him Ackbar.

“You make a lot of good points, Turbo… but am I  _really_ the most qualified person to give Coulson’s robo-hand a manicure?”


End file.
